


Nightmares

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: tumblr ficlets [23]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, references to Canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Harry hasn't slept well in a very long time.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: "My nightmares are usually about losing you.”

Harry wakes up gasping, his brain racing as he reaches for a gun that isn’t there. It takes a moment of feeling around under the pillow to remember; Merlin had removed it after the first night Harry had slept in their bed since he’d been home. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, not unlike he is now, grabbed the gun, and made a valiant effort to shoot Merlin (who, thankfully is a very light sleeper, and who had managed to wrestle it away from him before he’d had a chance to fire). Harry still feels guilty every time he thinks about it, no matter how often Merlin assures him that he doesn’t need to.

His nightmares had been bad before, but now they’re an entirely new level of awful. The scene at the church is a common feature, like it was tonight. It’s his least favourite of the nightmares, the one where he’s completely in control but he still kills all those people, licks blood from his lips and _laughs_ , the one where he turns around and he’s suddenly in a jungle in Cambodia and pushing the love of his life onto a landmine.

He’s only aware he’s shaking when Merlin wraps his arms around him and presses his lips to Harry’s temple. Quietly, he murmurs, “You’re alright, love. It was just a dream.”

Harry shrugs out of Merlin’s grip because he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve to be held and consoled for all the evil still lurking in his head.

“Hey,” Merlin says. “Talk to me.” It’s a familiar phrase, the basis of their relationship.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

“Bullshit,” Merlin tells him. “Tell me what’s wrong, Harry. Let me help.”

And just like that, all the unpleasantness of the dream still bubbling under the surface of his skin collides with Harry’s self-loathing and boils over. “You couldn’t possibly understand!” Harry snaps. “ _You_ don’t wake up screaming in the middle of the night. _You_ don’t have a clue what it’s like to be forced to relive horrors over and over in your dreams!”

Silence stretches between them, each second another punch to Harry’s gut as he realizes what he’s just said. Merlin’s expression is calm. “Are you done?”

“Darling-“

Merlin interrupts him, “I love you, so I’m going to pretend that you’re not taking your own problems out on me. Just because I don’t wake up screaming doesn’t mean I don’t have nightmares. I watch horrors all day long. You don’t think sometimes they make an appearance at night as well?”

“I didn’t mean it,” Harry says softly. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“You never talk about them.”

“Sure I do,” Merlin says. “Just not with you. I can’t afford to not deal with things, Harry. My job is to keep you lot safe in the field, and I can’t do that with a messed-up head any more than you can do your job with a broken leg.”

Harry knows that Merlin regularly sees the therapist Kingsman keeps on staff. It’s a requirement of his position. But it’s been years since Harry last asked what Merlin talks about with her, not since the first time he had, when Merlin had told him that whatever he said in that room was between the two of them, and that he’d tell Harry anything he thought his partner needed to know.

They don’t tell each other everything, after all.

Hesitantly, Harry cuddles back up to Merlin’s side and allows his partner to wrap him up. “Why did you never say anything?”

“Your nightmares are bad enough. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to deal with mine as well. I know what you’re like.”

“What are they about?”

Merlin sighs, but he says, “Sometimes they’re about things I’ve seen through the agents. Gawain torturing someone for information, Bors throwing a live grenade into a crowded arena, that sort of thing. But instead of watching, I’m doing it myself. I know, logically, that we do what we have to, but that doesn’t mean it always sits right with me after the fact.”

Harry nods. He understands exactly what Merlin means by that.

“But most of the time they’re about agents I’ve lost in the field. These past two years, my nightmares are usually about losing you.”

Harry twists in Merlin’s grip so he can face his partner. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault you got shot in the head.”

“It’s not your fault either,” Harry says. “No more than Lancelot was your fault. No more than any other agent, knight or otherwise, who died on your watch was your fault.” He’s aware it’s a touch hypocritical, coming from him.

“I know that, logically,” Merlin says. “But dreams aren’t logical. They take our worst bits, our darkest flaws and our biggest failures, and they throw them back in our face. But that’s not who we are, Harry. We’re not monsters.”

Harry gives a small smile, “You’re a very intelligent man, Hamish Hart.”

“One of us has to be.” Merlin rubs his nose against Harry’s briefly, then says, “Go back to sleep.”

Harry settles and closes his eyes, surrounded by the warmth of his partner’s embrace. For the rest of the night, he doesn’t dream at all.

And the next day, without telling Merlin, he makes an appointment with Kingsman’s therapist.


End file.
